Damn Dysfunctional
by MacFanFictionize
Summary: Involves Seth MacFarlane. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

This has been a request and inspiration by the lovely SethmutherfuckinMacFarlane, along with a very amazing, bright anonymous.I'm running a little with the song fic idea, and will be using a few lyrics of the song, "One More Night" (sung by Maroon 5) per chapter.

* * *

_"You and I go hard at each other like we going to war_

_You and I go rough_  
_We keep throwing things and slammin' the door_

_You and I get so damn dysfunctional _  
_we stopped keeping score_

_You and I get sick_  
_Yeah, I know that we can't do this no more"_

"I'm sorry, do you have a problem with me?", a voice from behind you suddenly asks. He grabs your elbow, and twirls you around to face him. Even though you stare him straight in the eyes, you recognized that velvety, rich, deep voice immediately, before he even touched you. It's too unique to belong to someone else.

"I'm not sure if I can follow," you play innocently.

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean"

"I don't. Unlike you, because you obviously must know what I'm thinking, I'm not telepathic", you say, releasing your arm from his grip and place it on your hip rather cockily. You simply stare at him, lifting your eyebrows to urge him to continue.

"You don't like me", he finally states, more or less whispering as he leans in a little, hoping to leave this between the two of you, and not catch unwanted attention from the rest in the other, nearby room.

"Now who gave you that idea?", you mockingly ask.

"Look, I'm just a friend of your friend. There's no need to be so hostile towards me"

"Me? Hostile?", you scoff, "Hardly".

He eyes you, hinting at your current stance. It's rude, sassy and very defensive. It's not welcoming by the slightest sight.

"Fine", your expression doesn't soften one bit, "But you know, misogynistic bastards don't really receive any nice treatment"

"I admit, I'm a lot of things, but I am certainly not misogynistic", he replies sternly, anger shining thickly through his tone of voice. His eyes have darkened with frustration; his brow is slightly frowned.

"Sure, and I'm extremely gullible and willing to believe anything you say", you reply, patting him condescendingly on the arm.

You can see him clench his jaw. He's trying to restrict his rising anger, and you just hope he sparks as bright as a match that has just been lit when he releases it. Oh, you so hope. This guy has been getting on your nerve all night.

"I'm not", he says sternly, his voice lower than before as he clenches his jaw once more while he intensely gazes into your eyes. Those brown pools absorb you in, catching you off guard. You're silent for a couple of seconds, because you realize how close the two of you just are. You're about an inch apart, and you're uncertain how that has happened.

"Right", you say, stepping back, creating a barrier between the two of you, "As if murderers are so willing and keen to admit they've killed someone".

He closes his eyes, shaking his head before opening them again, "Let me prove it to you that I'm not misogynistic."

"How?", you scoff again, laughing at his expense, and doing this right in his face.

"Spend some time with me. You'll get to know me better. You'll see who I really am; the real me"

"And this one is different from the Seth MacFarlane portrayed through your work, the media and paparazzi? No, thank you. I think they give a pretty clear imagine; you're a sexist douche"

He firmly shakes his head, chewing onto his lip before erupting, "I am not!"

"Really? Because you seem to make sexist jokes without any difficulty or excuse"

"Please", he pleads, calming down, though, you have a sense you can spark it up again and you just might do so, for funsies, "A small portion of your time. That's all I ask"

"No. In fact, I already regret talking to you in the first place. Now excuse me, I was going to the bathroom until you rudely interrupted me", with that, you turn around on your heel and strut to said room.

His tongue slips across his bottom lip, before sliding across his teeth and palate afterwards, his teeth grit. Then he, too, turns around and makes his way back to the living room.

You smirk at your reflection in the mirror. What a pompous, arrogant jerk. He arrives, not half an hour late, but a full hour, and dares to act all chivalrous and innocently, as though he had done no wrong. The rest bought it, eating it up as a sweet desert. They seemed taken aback by his good looks and quick, clever tongue. As though it wasn't already bad that he was terribly late, all eyes were directed at him during dinner as he chatted away, entertaining the rest with cute, sweet anecdotes and other fun, little stories. Oh, please. It sickened you, and you made sure he picked up on it. You've been rolling your eyes at him, audibly sighing at his attempts of poor, raunchy jokes, and have been insufferably annoying by randomly shouting things at the top of your lungs to interrupt him (you swear, for a few seconds you were worried you even had Tourette's)– not to mention you've been humming along with god-awful Justin Bieber songs, sometimes even singing the lyrics out loud (with the full works, so you've been really giving it your all by pretending your cell phone was the microphone) and abruptly taking pictures with your phone, with your super bright flash. Several times.

You smirk devilishly from ear to ear, straighten your hair and clothes before stepping out. He must really hate you by now. If not, you'll find a way to annoy him even more. Perhaps spill your wine on his expensive, precious plaid shirt, ruining it forever. Oh, yes. You can step your game up if needed. You just needed him out of there, far away.

"You're obnoxious", you suddenly hear. It comes from your right, and you're fairly certain you recognize that voice. It's the same one from just a moment ago. God. You roll your eyes and direct yourself at him.

"So are you by waiting me up. What are you, 8?"

"I was about to ask you the same. Your behavior has been inexcusable", he says as he folds his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, my behavior has been inexcusable? Well, excuse me then", you reply and start to walk away from him to join the rest, but a firm hand suddenly catches you by the wrist and forces you against the wall. He pins you down and places your hands above your head. His face is mere inches away from yours. Those dark brown eyes stare deeply into yours. You can feel his warm breath against your skin.

Okay, this is actually hot.

"You're loud, annoying, and it's pissing me off greatly. And I have a funny feeling you're doing it all on purpose"

"What makes you think that?"

"While dumb people may be just that; dumb, they're rarely as rude as your current behavior is", he pauses, tightening his grip on you – had you mentioned already how arousing this was?, "you have a problem with me".

"I do", you admit.

"Spit it out", he says, his voice low, deep and strict.

"Why?", you say through gritted teeth. His anger is infectious: you can feel yourself becoming angry as well. He's got quite some nerve, to even confront you like this. To more or less force it out of you by restraining you.

"I'm a complete, total stranger you've just met, and you've already given me a lot of shit and poor attitude. You owe me an explanation".

"I owe you nothing"

His jaw is clenched. He slowly lets go off you and steps back. He turns around a couple of times. He seems unsure what to do, hesitant. Until a harmful index finger is pointed at you, and he jabs at you, oh, he jabs dirty at you and it stings, even more than being stung by a bee, "You know what? Fine. Be like that. I try to be nice, try to sort this out, but you won't let me. Fine. Be an asshole. You judge me for being a bastard and a douche, but it's very clear to me that you're the biggest, bloated douche and jerk I've ever met!".

"At least I make tons of money by demeaning those less privileged than myself. I'm a white boy from... wherever the fuck you're from!"

"What is your fucking problem, woman?!"

"You – and your arrogance, acting as though you're a big shot!"

"You're a cunt", he replies before storming off.

"Fucking asshole", you yell after him.

The rest of the dinner goes by slowly. It's tedious, as he's still rewarded with the same amount of attention as before. He's such a great man! Ugh. Here and then, the two of you exchange looks, and you make sure to get under his skin by sticking your tongue out or by just frowning to the extreme. You feel the urge to just flip him off by pretending to run a hand through your hair, but you decide to remain some form of dignity, whatever might be left. Luckily, you don't have to go for full rudeness, because after 20 or so minutes of bullying him, he seems to not be able to take anymore of your shit, excuses himself and leaves.

Mission success, and good riddance.


	2. Chapter 2

_"But baby, there you go again_  
_There you go again, making me love you._

_Yeah, I stopped using my head,_  
_using my head_  
_letting it all go"_

* * *

The rest of the week slipped past you like water slips past a rock, yet it does so by cutting slowly, inch by inch, through the solid stone, like a sharp machete. It seems to have the same effect on you, your mind and body. Cut and broken up by the sharp machete of intensive labor. You were glad Sunday came around. Just a couple more hours before you finally had a few days off, and god, those were well deserved!

But there was a particular reason as to why you never quite liked these Sundays, so the last few hours would be agonizing, you already knew it. You only hoped it was worth the trouble.

You make your way through seemingly endless yet identical corridors. The next is the same as the one you previously skipped through. You sigh to yourself as you hear your pager going off.

"Yes, yes", you mutter to yourself, recognizing the number on its display, "I'll be there in a minute".

At the end of the tunnel, you open one of the double doors. Bright lights immediately greet you. It takes a while to get used to it. But then, you take in its glory: the light azure, almost baby blue, coloured epoxy coated floor and a swamped waiting room.

Oh, we meet again.

You collect all the courage within you and slowly walk towards the reception desk.

"Hey babe", Grace behind the desk greets you sweetly, smiling brightly.

"How can you be so enthusiastic at this hour?"

"A good hearty breakfast-"

Your eyes focus themselves onto Steven, who mimics a blowjob behind her back. You burst out laughing, near the verge of tears as you lean onto the wooden surface of the desk to prevent yourself from falling over.

"He did something nasty again, didn't he?"

"Yeah", you reply and within a heartbeat, Grace smacks Steven with her clipboard several times.

"Ouch, ouch!", Steven yells out at the brutal assault.

"All right", you say, a straight face on again after the heavy beating has passed, "Give it to me, Grace. And it better be something good".

"Your room today will be examination room 2. Your first patient is male, 24 years old and he's not been feeling well; he's suffering from a mild fever, chills, coughing, decreased appetite, headache and a soar throat. He's already waiting for you", she gives you a stern look, her eyes barely peeking above the rim of her glasses, but the point she tries to make is clear. Crystal clear.

"Great. Thank you", you say, taking the file from her. You approach examination room 2 and enter it.

"Good evening, "you quickly open the file for a second or two, "Mr. Hernandez. What seems to be the problem?"

You take a seat in front of the bed and listen how Mr. Hernandez informs you about the previously mentioned symptoms. You politely nod your head every now and then, implying that you're carefully listening, until the man finishes his well-researched, which he must've practiced a couple of times in front of a mirror because it's seemingly near perfection, speech, with a matching raspy voice, and here and there a cough. You ask him a few more follow-up questions – which symptoms occurred first, for how long, where he's been recently, what his job is and so forth. With each question, he's more than capable to answer accordingly.

"It seems that you're suffering from influenza, which is not very uncommon around this time of the year", you pause and observe how he nods at you, and you swear you see a faint smirk present on his features, "Though, I must say; I'm fairly impressed at the amount of symptoms. People who usually suffer from the flu don't have as much symptoms as you do, just a few. It worries me. I want to keep you here overnight and monitor your condition, in case it gets worse"

"Oh, I'm certain that won't be necessary. I'm sure either Tamiflu or Relenza will do the trick".

You lift an eyebrow at, not only his medical knowledge, but also his rude behavior, "I will prescribe you an antiviral medication, but I want you to stay, just to be safe."

"I'm afraid I can't"

"Why not?"

"I… ehr..", his eyes shift from left to right and back a couple of times. You've poked a hole through his perfect research.

"Isn't the Dodgers game in three days?"

"Yes, but I don't see why that has to-"

"If you want to get off from work, you'll have to clarify with your supervisor. Faking an illness is the most stupid thing you can do. Well, getting caught faking an illness is the most stupidest."

"Oh, come on. My friends got tickets and invited me!"

"Sorry. I can't favour you. Then I'll have to do it for the next person, and the next, and the next, and then it becomes just such a hassle, you know?"

"Not even this once?", he asks naively.

"Nope. Just give your supervisor those puppy eyes. I'm sure it'll work", you say, giving the man a wink before waving him out the room. You head over to Grace, propping your elbow on top of the furniture, gazing longingly into her blue eyes, "Next".

"He seems bummed out. Let me guess – faker?"

"Yup; Dodger's game".

Grace chuckles before handing you another file, "Elderly male, 70 years old, injured his back while playing tennis. Wanted to see if it was nothing bad".

"All right", you say, taking the file and make your way over to the waiting room, "Mr. Johnson, you may come with me".

You repeat the same thing over and over, until the waiting room slims down and it's nearly 9 pm. The free clinic is about the shut down, clinic duty is nearly over and you have one more patient. One more!

"Last one for today, honey!", she beams brightly, lifting up the file. You huff and puff, putting on a little display for her, struggling to make your way to the counter and she rewards you with a big and sweet smile.

"Oh, cut it out, will ya?", Steven says beside you, eyeing the file of also his last patient.

"I forgot; not everyone will be having time off after this", you flash him one of your biggest smiles, earning an audible groan, and you quickly hurry to the waiting room, where your last patient of the day is.

"Miss Laudiero?", you read from the page. You look up and meet the most cutest, adorable little girl in the world. You squat down to her height and offer her your hand, which she takes and shakes it shyly with her small one.

"Hi Bella, I'm going to be your physician this evening", you smile at her.

"Hi", she utters a little, flustering. She steps back and takes a hold of a leg, hiding shyly behind it, peeking here and then, which makes you aware of the fact that there's actually someone accompanying her. Oops, you mentally remark and quickly rise to your feet. Immediately, you meet two familiar brown eyes.

"Why does this not surprise me?", you suddenly blurt out. You always had a nasty habit of blurting out things as a defence mechanism.

"Is there another doctor available?", he sternly says, not moving a muscle.

"There is, but he's currently busy with his last patient. I'm sure you'll just worsen your daughter's condition if you wait for him"

"We can wait", he snaps.

"All right. You might not realize it, but you just made me a very happy girl", you say, smirking sweetly at Bella's directing before teasingly sticking your tongue out at him, which, in return, earns you a growl. You wave briefly at the shy girl before going back to Grace.

"I need Steven to take over my last patient"

"Steven's currently busy with his. What's the matter?", Grace looks up from her paper work, giving you her utmost concerned look.

"Let's just say that the patient's father and I don't really see eye to eye."

"What happened?"

You shake your head, "Later. I'm off. I'm going to celebrate my free time". You smirk wickedly before giving Grace the file of one Bella Laudiero. Grace flips through it, "You might want to take a look at her. This seems serious".

You were about to run through the double doors, through the endless corridors, but she wheels you back in, tugging hard at your leash, restraining your outburst of pure joy just a little longer, so you reluctantly turn around, pouting, "Can't Steven just do it?"

"No. As I said: he's busy. Examine her. Now", she orders and ushers you away, paying attention to her paperwork once more.

"Hmmmpf", you sigh out loud before grabbing the file from the counter and heading back to the waiting room. There, both Seth and Bella are seated upon the most uncomfortable seats one could ever imagine. You approach them, but before you can even open your mouth, Seth interrupts you.

"I don't want an incompetent doctor. Get someone else", he bosses.

You grit your teeth, fighting back the urge to strangle him right on the spot, but you realize it won't do any good, in fact: it'll only increase the little girl's problems, "Well, if you had been more watchful over her, you wouldn't be in this situation right now". You cock your head towards him and give him the sassiest look you can magically appear on your face after all these long hours. He remains silent. You can see the urge to retort on his face, but he knows you have a point.

"I'm going to examine her. If you won't allow me to do my job, you're one of the biggest pricks on the face of the earth. She might be suffering from something serious. It's better to deal with it as soon as we can".

"Pricks", Bella giggles besides Seth. Seth watches Bella repeat the word several times before looking at you. He regards you sternly, eyes blazing with fire. Goodie. Thanks to you, she just learned a new word.

You chew onto your lower lip, "Yeah, sorry about that".

"Fine", he says. He stands up. Bella automatically lifts her arms up at her uncle. She wants him to carry her, so Seth picks Bella up, and carries her to you. You guide him to room 2.

"Seat her on the bed", you say as you look at her file. Difficulty swallowing. Shortness of breath. Both serious symptoms. You look back up to see Seth shooting you an annoyed stare before seating his kid niece onto the soft padding of the bed.

"All right", you say and sit in front of the young girl. Seth has decided to stand in between the two of you, "Where you near her when it happened?"

'I, eh, I… I was taking a shower when it happened"

You turn your head in his direction, shooting him a disgusted look, "Really? What kind of…", your eyes switch to Bella, who has decided to cough at this time, and you're glad she did: you hold your tongue. You'll kick his ass later.

"I'll have to talk to you when we're done here"

"Really?", he folds his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Yes. Have you done anything to get it loose?"

"Yes, we tried with soda and bread. It didn't work".

"Okay. Does her mother know?"

"No", you look at him again, "I don't want to upset her. It might be nothing".

"Yet it might be anything", you disapprovingly shake your head at him, "Do you know if she was eating anything?".

"No, she wasn't. She should've been asleep", he buries his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, "In case you fail to realize: I'm not that bad of a babysitter".

"You just don't watch them when you're supposed to babysit", you snap at him, "No wonder you're reluctant to tell her mother".

"Just examine her already, if you can"

You shoot him an irritated look for even doubting your skills as a physician before directing yourself to Bella, "Hi". You smile, and the little girl smiles back, "Hi".

"Can I see your throat, sweetie? Just open your mouth and tilt your head back"

You retrieve two gloves from a nearby cabinet, along with a penlight and tongue depressor. Bella follows your instructions and allows you to look at her throat.

"There's nothing visible I can see: everything looks fine. I'm going to have to numb her throat and look at her oesophagus", you turn the chair towards Seth, "Is that all right with you?".

Seth visibly rolls his eyes at you, sighing, and utters, "You're extremely frustrating".

"Thank you. You're wonderful, too", you say and start prepping to take a closer look at Bella. You make sure to numb her throat with Xylocaine Spray to block her gag relax before laying her on her back. You use a laryngoscope to look down her oesophagus and vocal cords. There, you see the little devil. You retrieve it with long forceps.

"I think someone's in the need for an eye patch", you remark as you uphold the brown-coloured plush eye, "Recognize it?"

Seth sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, directs his gaze towards the floor and nods. He shuffles a little with his foot. His sudden humbleness catches you off guard. You suspected a witty response.

"I do, but I was told the stuffed bear was child-proof."

"These things happen all the time. With or without things being childproof. You should've been more watchful. Let it be a lesson".

You raise a single eyebrow at him and his toned down behavior. He doesn't respond verbally, he doesn't say much, really, but non-verbally he's extremely vulnerable right now. You decide to not take any advantage of it. That would lack character on your behalf, and you're not that bad, actually, despite what Seth might think personally.

"You feel better, huh?", you direct yourself at Bella, who nods shyly. You smile at her adorableness before getting on your feet. You remove the gloves, toss them in the trash and as you do so, you get a lollypop from one of the jars on top of the counter. You give one to the little girl, "Just be a little careful with what you put in your mouth, sweetie". She nods again before sucking on the lollipop. You chuckle.

"You're not going to tell her mother, are you?", Seth cautiously asks. Before you can reply, his cell phone buzzes. He hastily accepts the call whilst running a hand through his hair.

"Hey Rach! No, Bella's fine. What do you mean, you were getting worried?", he laughs it off, and as he speaks to her on the phone, he intensely stares at you. You simply stare back, lifting your eyebrows. As the seconds pass, you start to feel rather uncomfortable under his piercing stare. You're unsure how to behave, and those brown pools manage to have quite an affect on you. They draw you in, they awaken some form of curiosity within you. You're unsure why, though. After reassuring his sister that everything's fine, he hangs up again.

"You're not going to tell her yourself, are you?"

"No. She'll become worried. It's not something she needs right now"

"Right. How.. thoughtful of you".

He eyes you suspiciously, "Wait, is your stone cold heart warming up to me? I know you would eventually"

"Or is your frozen heart warming up to me?", you present him a raised eyebrow and he rewards you with a smirk.

"Is this how you're going to play it?"

You nod in acknowledgement.

"You're so bright, doctor", he mockingly says.

"Really? Wow, thank you. I was afraid that swimming in those tight idiotic porn-star cooches clouded your judgement. I'm glad you can still recognize some true intellect".

"Jealous, are we?", the motion of his tongue wetting his lips catches your unwanted attention. He playfully smirks at you afterwards.

"Yes, because women are always jealous when they voice their disagreements".

"You're already looking a little green"

"That may be because your ego is shining through and it reeks of arrogance. I may vomit".

"And here I was thinking you were opening up to me"

"You thought wrong. Based upon your young female companionships, I'd say you have poor judgement".

"Why do you think I'm such a bastard?"

"Because you showed up an hour late and still acted as though your nose bled. It's disrespectful".

"Then why are you the only one who feels like that?"

"Why do you seek approval of complete, utter strangers?"

That catches him off guard. "I.. uh...", he stammers, blinking a couple of times, "I..."

"I'm not the only one who feels like that; the rest is just too stupid to realize you just charm it all away with your looks and witty comebacks. I'm not a piece of shit, and I refuse to be treated like one"

"I've had no idea", he lowers his head, directing himself to the floor before making eye-contact once more, he's frowning heavily and seems genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry".

"A billionaire like you being sorry for the hurt feelings of such a petty human being you'll never meet again? I don't believe that".

"Let me prove it to you that I'm not some arrogant, misogynistic jerk. I'm having a small, intimate pool party this week and I would love it if you came".

"I'm not sure if that's so wise".

"Your friend will be there"

"Jacky?", you can't help but sound surprised.

"Yes", he nods, "So, what do you say? You'll have the chance to acquaint yourself with me personally, and you can then decide for yourself if the media, paparazzi and all those bullshitters are right about me. Yes?"

He seems so hopeful, so joyous with that innocent yet hopeful twinkle in his eyes.

"Sure, why the heck not?"


	3. Chapter 3

_"Yeah, I stopped using my head,  
using my head  
letting it all go"_

"Are you out of your damn mind?!", your friend immediately asks you as you open the door. After allowing her entrance, and when she hesitantly enters your home because you're ignoring her supposed-warm greeting, you close the door again and make your way to the living room. She hastily follows you, tracing your footsteps like a dangerous predator with its eyes hungrily set on its prey, which would be… _you_.

She must've found out by what's-his-name personally that he invited you to his pool party, you conclude. He must've been worried about inviting you after all, and decided to check with your mutual friend.

You play with the thought of him telling her all about your previous encounters: how immature, mean and obnoxious you were at dinner, the little check-up at the doctor's office - or maybe he left the last one out, because he did leave his own daughter unsupervised, which, in turn, resulted in her nearly suffocating. Nobody wants bad parenting on their rep. And judging by your friend's most welcome greeting, he probably did tell her, yes. Did he tell her about the obvious sexual tension, too? You wonder what she told him. Did she lie to him? Or did she have the balls to be honest with him and tell him the bitter truth? You're clearly not a Seth MacFarlane fan – at all. And you ponder if he already knows this by now.

Suddenly, the clearing of a throat catches your attention, breaking you away from your thoughts.

An obviously annoyed voice behind you speaks up, "I'm still here and waiting for a response".

You cautiously turn around and meet a pair of dangerous, ready-to-attack eyes.

"Look", you sigh, unsure if there's even a way to make her understand, to even explain it crystal clear, so you settle for something less complex: "It'll be fun".

"Fun? You despise the man, loathe him, can't even stand him. Why the fuck are you going to his party?", she hot-headedly says with her hands rapidly moving around in the air.

You raise an eyebrow at her, "Thank you for clarifying my own opinion. It's not like I knew that already".

You eventually motion her to sit and she complies by slowly taking a seat on the sofa with her eyes still fixated on you, barely blinking. Her expression is strict, purely business. She wants to know and she's going to find out. She sure wants to keep an eye on you, so you decide to take a seat on a nearby chair opposed from her. Maybe you should try to explain it to her. She's your voice of reason after all. She'll understand.

_Maybe._

It's either that, or she might realize that you're crazy and have you put into a mental institution.

"Today is my day off, right?"

She nods, gesturing you to go on.

"In fact, I'm having a long week off"

Jacky nods again, "Yes, I know that. Your point being?"

"When was it when I had a good time?"

After a couple of minutes or so of dead silence, along with heavy frowning, sighing and uncomfortable shifting in her seat, "I… I can't remember… but, hey! We often asked you if you wanted to join-"

You shake your head, interrupting her, "That's not the point. I'm not attacking you for it. I've just been too busy studying and becoming the best competent doctor I could possibly be that I've never had the time to relax and have some carefree fun".

"I… don't like where this is going"

"This is the perfect opportunity for just that!"

A big smile spreads across your face.

"You're freaking me out over here", she says, sitting slightly back while she raises an eyebrow, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I've never been better!"

"Are you sure? Because last time I checked, you were a sane, bright young woman with a good career ahead of her. You're not like this"

"I'm fine", you pause and sit beside Jacky, taking her hands in yours as your enthusiasm flickers on your face: eyes beaming brightly with a wide smile present, "Don't you see how brilliant this is?"

"You're taking advantage of the poor man", she pulls back before standing up, "You can't do this".

You roll your eyes at her, "Yes, because we all live in this perfect world, in a perfect bubble where there is no racism, no sexism, no nothing. Just perfect bubbliness, and we're all happy, silly, little, grey drones"

She places her hands onto her hips, "You _cannot _do this".

"I_ can _do this because he asked me himself. What was I to do, decline his offer?"

"Yes! He doesn't know with whom he's dealing with here!"

You show her a wicked, sly smirk before rising to your feet, "Oh, don't worry. He'll find out soon enough".

"Don't. He _is _a good guy"

"Oh, I'm sure he is - all chivalrous and whatnot when the spotlight's on him, but behind the scenes, Jacky, I have a feeling you better watch out for him. He seems to not have a problem with creating and allowing misogynistic, bigoted, racist material on his show. Surely, that means something. And if he were such a good guy as you claim he is, he'd feel bad about it, but he takes prides in it instead! I've seen the interviews; the guy just wallows in arrogance"

A veil of silence takes a hold of them for a brief moment, until Jacky finally speaks up. "I know I can't change your mind, knowing how stubborn you are. So, please," she lets out a heavy, defeated sigh, "go easy on him".

"No. It's time he gets what's coming. This is his own fault"


End file.
